Proving Ground
by Lora Kael
Summary: Timeline: Tournament at Gorlan. Some time has passed since Morgarath was ousted, but things have been busy for the Rangers and they still have some cleaning up to do, mostly in the ranks of the Ranger Corps. So Crowley have gathered all Rangers, both those who have earned their oakleaves and those who have not, to settle things once and for all. This will be their proving ground.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This is an independent sequel to After the Tournament. That means it can be read as is or as a continuation of things started in that story, but only the book is a requirement for reading.

* * *

It was a lovely, late summer's day, but Crowley doubted the men gathered in front of him now noticed, intent as they were on him and the Rangers beside him.

Technically they were Rangers, too, at least they had been given the title and the oakleaf, but the difference between them and the men next to him where startling. For one the majority of them didn't wear the standard Ranger uniform; instead they wore a variety of colours and materials as well as weapons beside the ones issued by the Ranger corps. Many didn't even carry a bow, but had fancy swords at their sides instead. And none of them had gone through the five years of training and testing to become Rangers. These were men, who had all bought the oakleaf, but not earned it.

Crowley had to work to keep his face neutral; he couldn't look or sound like he despised them for buying the right to wear the oakleaf. He had to play this carefully.

A couple of the real Rangers stood at a casual distance, ready to shoot if any of the men in front of him should prove troublesome, but Crowley doubted they would be stupid enough to do anything despite how some of them seethed. They all knew the reputation of the Rangers and they knew that the men in front of and behind them were expert marksmen. He saw a few shoot sidelong glances at the Rangers standing farther apart.

Crowley clasped his hands together bringing all attention back to him.

"All right, men. Now that everyone are here, it's time we got things under way. We have a lot to do at this year's Gathering, so best we get started. King Oswald has kindly allowed us to make use of the facilities here at Castle Araluen to make everything easier to organise."

Crowley let his gaze travel over the men as he spoke. Some of them looked outright hostile, others mildly curious, some fearful. It was clear that most of them were wary of what Crowley had in mind and he smiled inwardly as he thought of how they were sure to dislike what came next.

"It has come to my attention that the standard of the Corps has fallen in recent years and that is simply unacceptable. I have been given the responsibility of reforming and restrengthening the Corps, and that means that every Ranger must prove their worth."

There was some rustling at his last words, but Crowley continued before anyone could protest. "Therefore this year you have all been called here for assessment. Some of the men here have already been assessed and have proven their skills, and they will help assess the rest of you. Those who pass the assessment will continue as Rangers."

"And those who do not?" one guy in deep green clothes asked.

Crowley meet his stare as he answered. "They will turn in their oakleaves and return to their homes."

There was a general murmur and some outraged exclamations at that.

"You can't take our oakleaves!"

"Who gave you the right to do this?!"

"This is a scandal!"

Crowley gave them a moment to quiet down before he raised his voice over the din. "Actually, I can. I am the Commandant now, and I have the mandate to choose who becomes Rangers and who stays Rangers, a mandate I've gotten from the King himself." He looked at each of them in turn without pity in his eyes. "Anyone, who haven't kept his skills up to an acceptable standard have no place in the Ranger Corps. If you are worried about getting kicked out, then perhaps you haven't trained hard enough. These men –" he made an encompassing gesture to the Rangers, who had proven themselves against Morgarath "have all proven themselves in recent months and passed the tests. Are you saying you will do less?" He raised an eyebrow towards the loudest protesters.

They quieted down some as they looked at the tough and grim faced Rangers facing them, but still grumbled. High born sons they didn't like taking orders from someone as young as Crowley and certainly not someone, who didn't even have an important family to his name. Many of them had seen him as an apprentice and snorted behind his back, because he couldn't afford to buy an oakleaf for himself. Now he was their Commandant, and they were afraid of what payback he might issue.

"I thought not." Then he smiled. "Very well, then let's move on. The assessment is fairly simple; you will go through a series of minor tests that will test different skill sets. This will be done in small groups." Some looked relieved at that piece of info, others still looked at Crowley in disdain. "As said before, the Rangers, who have already been assessed, will carry out your assessments. Each Ranger will focus on different skill sets, so you will be assessed by all in different ways.

Your combined score will determined whether or not you are deemed to have the necessary skills to be a Ranger. Understood?"

There was a moment of quiet as Crowley finished speaking. It was clear a lot of them didn't like it, but it was also clear they knew they had no other choice, but to comply. Otherwise they should never have come.

"Good. Then it is time to divide you into teams. Your name will be called and as it is spoken you will step forward and follow the Ranger responsible for your first test." Crowley pulled out the list of the teams and Egon stepped forward, ready to take the men to their first test. "Team One, " he called. "Narton, Siswick, Littlecreek. Team Two..."

§

From the other side of that invisible dividing line between the Rangers, a Ranger in his end twenties stood carefully listening. He understood the desire to test all the Rangers and make sure they were good enough, because Lord knows, there were some unskilled among them. He didn't actually know Crowley as a person as he had only ever seen him at a distance at Gatherings, and when he had had the chance to buy the oakleaf and become a Ranger, Crowley had been a mere apprentice, so he hadn't ever sought him out to get to know him.

He was passionate about being a Ranger and wanted to prove his worth. Ever since he was young he had admired the Rangers and their skills with the bow and at stealth, but he had never been chosen as an apprentice, and had thought the chance passed. Then the old Commandant had committed treason and a bunch of Rangers had left in anger, leaving the Corps missing quite a few. And that had given him the opportunity to get his foot in and prove that he really could be a Ranger.

Of course, he had quickly learned that the Rangers were even better than he had known, and so he had spent every Gathering trying to garner as much from the old ones as he could. He felt pretty confident he could pass this assessment of Crowley's; for one thing he actually practised his skills, and secondly he had had the sense to wear the Ranger's equipment, not some flashy clothes and show weapons.

He snorted internally. Some of them wore colours so bright, they could be mistaken for peacocks. Good riddance to them, he thought.

No, his chances were good. He didn't know what the tests would be about, but he had some good guesses. Archery would certainly be one of them, unseen movement another. He felt he did well in both. But Crowley was dividing them into a lot of small teams, so they would most likely face a lot of different tests during the next couple of days. He finally heard his name called for Team Seven and stepped forward readily. He would prove himself to the Ranger Commandant once and for all.

§

Crowley let his paper roll back up as he finished calling the last names for Team Nine and they left following Halt. He smiled to himself. Those men were all of the opinion of their own superior importance; Halt would be a rude awaking in archery skills and grim sarcasm. He was sure Halt would shake them and their deeply held beliefs being both very young and very, very skilled.

Crowley, of course, wouldn't assess any of them directly, but he would keep watch overall and gather all the scores together. No one would have the chance to say he played favourites. The remaining Rangers would also keep watch of everything and make sure everyone played nice.

Crowley let his gaze travel around before he set out for Halt's group. After all, it would be too much fun to see them crumble before Halt not to start there.

§

"Bows out," Halt called, not bothering with any pleasantries. As far as he was concerned a Ranger should always have his bow at the ready and besides Crowley had already given them the introduction. It was time to get serious.  
One of them took his bow in his hand, the other two exchanged glances; they hadn't brought their bows along.  
"Um, we didn't know we would need the bow already."  
"Yes, we thought this was just introductions," the other piped in.  
Halt nearly made a face, but caught himself in time. Instead he raised an eyebrow and said dryly: "You didn't bring your bows? A Ranger's primary weapon?"

One of them bristled at Halt's tone; how dare this youngster speak like that to him? "It was just introductions," he said hotly.

"Introductions are over," Halt replied without humour. "We are not here to dally around."

Halt sized them up critically. No bows or quivers of arrows, flashy, impractical clothes, one even had a sword by his side. Halt doubted he actually knew how to properly use it. "Well, luckily I brought extra bows and arrows." He stepped over to a small pile covered with a large cloth and pulled two bows free, throwing one to each wannabe Ranger, both of whom barely caught it, caught by surprise. Then he handed each one a quiver of arrows. "There. Now let's get going."

Halt stepped back looking at the three of them. The one, who had actually brought his bow had a smug look on his face, the other two looked angry over the humiliation. Well, I'll soon get that smug look off your face, Halt thought.

"You get to start out with archery, one of the most important Ranger skills. The task is simple; you will shoot six arrows each at three different targets; 50 feet, 100 feet, 200 feet." Halt had wanted to shoot only at longer distances, but Crowley had insisted on the shorter ones, too. As far as Halt was concerned none of these distances should be any problem for a real Ranger, but then these clowns didn't look like Rangers nor did they act like it. Maybe they would be lucky to hit anything. "You take turns shooting. We'll start with the one, who remembered to actually bring a bow along." Halt nodded to the smug man, who stepped forward readily.

We'll see if you're any good now.

Halt immediately noticed that his stance was off; the placement of his feet wasn't quite right and he used his arm muscles too much when drawing back. He also snatched the release ever so slightly. He'll be lucky to hit anything like that, Halt thought to himself. He was slightly surprised to see the arrow actually hit the target. It was nowhere near the center being off both in elevation and to the left, but it had hit. He took much too long to nock his second arrow and send it after the first. This time a bit closer to the centre, but still way off. And we're only at 50 feet; I see why Crowley wanted the shorter distances, too.

The next shot didn't hit the mark at all; it burrowed itself in the ground a couple of meters short of the target. He then overdid it and lifted the bow too high, but the arrow stuck in the very edge of the target, off centre. The last two shots were painfully slow and Halt had to grit his teeth together not to tell the man to hurry up; the speed with which they shot was also part of the assessment. Neither arrow hit, both landing too short. The man shrugged philosophically as if nobody was expected to actually hit the 200 feet target.

Halt noted down his hits and misses and then nodded to him. "All right, go pick up your arrows. Warton, get ready."

Halt made a few more notes, then put his papers away as Penton returned with his arrows in hand.

"Shoot." Halt didn't feel the need for more words, but Warton was still slow with his first arrow. This doesn't look good, Halt thought. He was right. Warton did hit the target, but was way off centre. His second arrow wasn't much better. Halt had to suppress the desire to shake his head. Then by some dumb luck he hit the second inner ring on the 100 feet target.

"Did you see that?" he exclaimed as if he was some great archer, looking to his team mates. "A great shot."

"Drop the bragging and get on with it," Halt said gruffly.

Warton looked at him with distaste; he had clearly hoped to get some praise for his lucky shot, but Halt wasn't going to give him any, so he nocked another arrow and sent it flying. It went wide and long. He shrugged in a 'it can happen for the best' manner, and aimed for the last target. Neither arrow hit, both going wide and short.

Once again Halt quickly noted down the hits and misses and sent Warton to collect the arrows.

"Riverfolk, at the ready."

The same scene played out as before, or at least it felt that way to Halt. Much too slowly Riverfolk sent his arrows flying, both arrows hitting fairly close to each other on the first target, but to the right of the centre and too high. As the first he managed to get both his arrows into the second target, but only barely. Even so the other two mumbled appreciation of his skills. Halt made a face, but none of them noticed. Again he missed the last target completely, both arrows flying too far to the right.

As Riverfolk returned with his arrows Warton slapped his shoulder.

"Well done. Four out of six is a great result."

Riverfolk looked back with pride evident in his face and voice. "Yes. I wished I had gotten the last one, but it's a tricky shot." The other two nodded agreement.

It finally became too much for Halt.

"Shut up! Shut up all of you!" They looked at him in surprise as he glared at them. "You think four out of six is good? You're being assessed for be privilege to be Rangers; at these distances you should hit six out of six, not barely half of that!"

They were starting to look offended at Halt's outburst, and Penton took a step towards Halt. "You think it's so easy, do you? Then why don't you do it yourself? Oh right, you don't want us to see what – "

That was as far as he got before Halt swung his bow into his hand, nocked an arrow, sent it flying, and then in quick succession sent two more at each of the targets before they could do anything more than blink in confusion and surprise.

"Wha – " Warton began, then his jaw dropped. All Halt's arrows were in the centre of the targets and it had happened in the blink of an eye.

The look in their eyes changed and they suddenly looked at him warily.

"That," Halt said, "is what we expect of a Ranger. To actually be able to hit a target. You'll get a second change to improve on your performance; this time it's four arrows for each target."

With that Halt turned around and stalked out on the range to get his arrows back. Stupid, arrogant, soft shelled, idiots!

§

A short distance away Crowley stood watching the show and nearly doubled over laughing at Halt's obvious frustration, shaking with suppressed laughter. He shook his head slightly; Halt was no diplomat, that's for sure. But then again, Crowley had wanted them to be shaken up and Halt had certainly achieved that.

He didn't think he needed to watch any more of this, however entertaining it might be, and instead drifted away to see how badly the other teams were doing. He was humming to himself as he went to check on Berrigan and the knife tasks.

§

Norris was watching his current team with stoic silence and stillness. Not that they would have noticed him even if he hadn't been completely still; they were too noisy and too obvious in the landscape. The fact that only one of them actually wore the Ranger cloak didn't help either; the regular clothes stuck out like a sore thumb. He had thought they would be bad at unseen and unheard movement the moment he looked at them and he was right; they were horrible at it.

Norris had moved himself around along the path they were to take and each time they passed him he had no trouble spotting them, usually hearing them before they came into view. It was ridiculous that these men had ever called themselves Rangers, Norris thought.

After they had passed him a fourth time he decided he might as well get to the end area and see how they did there. Their goal was to move through the forest unseen and unheard and then retrieve a small item from a clearing before making their way out again. Norris would observe them along the way, with one of the other Rangers doing the same, and then they would both note down how they did. All in all it was a fairly simple and straightforward task, but that didn't mean it was an easy one. Easy wasn't for Rangers.

§

The man was good with his knives, Berrigan noted. Good and arrogant. He had an air of superiority about him, which he didn't like much, but considering his team mates he couldn't really blame him; the other two were dreadful. Didn't know how to hold the knives properly or throw them right. It was more luck than skill if they got a knife to stick in a target.

He suppressed the urge to shake his head; he needed to keep neutral for now. Of course, he was on his first team; there might be better people on the other teams, but somehow he doubted there would be a lot of them; the look he had gotten at them when they were all gathered didn't get his hopes up for a lot of actual candidates. He knew this was mostly to get things sorted in a diplomatic manner, where they at least got the chance to prove themselves before they were officially kicked out of the corps, but he knew it was also to ensure they knew that the Rangers that remained were people to reckon with, people with real skill. And if a few should prove they actually had the skills needed? Then great. They were badly in need of more Rangers; a dozen Rangers wasn't much to cover the whole of Araluen.

"All right," he called. "Next up we'll do a speed exercise. You'll throw both your knives in rapid succession at each their target. No more than three seconds between each throw."

He was met with two pair of slightly panicked looks and one confident nod.

All right, let's see if you are as good as you think you are, he thought, as he waved a hand to indicate he should start.

He was. He wasn't as fast as Berrigan, but he kept within the three second rule and both knives went into the targets. One was ever so slightly off centre, but otherwise the throw was good.

Berrigan had them all do the exercise five times for comparison, taking notes all the time. Brennan and Mealy both failed rather spectacularly, but the last team member had potential. If he was equally good in the other disciplines he might actually stay a Ranger. Berrigan frowned slightly. Of course, the arrogant way he looked at the other two was something he hoped only applied to the situation at hand and not in general. They didn't need Rangers with bad attitudes.

§

The teams were all taken through different tasks during the morning, rotating through four before the midday meal. The meal had been prepared by three teams under the supervision of the castle kitchen staff, who had agreed to assess their cooking skills on behalf of the Ranger Commandant. The kitchen staff made sure the Rangers got something edible, but not that it was perfect, which was why they all had to chew their way through overcooked and undercooked meat, vegetables, and bread, some of it scorched. Some of the wannabe Rangers complained about the food, but quickly shut up when they were told they would be on dinner duty later in the day.

"Well, at least it's not all bad," Berwick said, though he didn't sound too happy. The morning hadn't given him great confidence that they would be able to find any proper Rangers among the ones they now assessed, but he had spent the last couple of months with way too much work and had started hoping they might get some extra hands after this.

"Says you. This is so overcooked I can barely bite through it." Halt made a face. "I'll have to steal into the kitchens for something proper to eat later if this is what we have to expect for dinner, too."

The others mumbled agreement. While edible, most of it wasn't great, and they didn't look forward to a poorly done dinner later on.

"At least it's only two days," Crowley said reasonably. "They'll go through most of the tasks today, and the rest tomorrow. Then we can compare notes and make the announcement on who stays and who goes."

"You mean, you can make that announcement," Halt said. "And don't expect any to stay; I'm not seeing impressive shooting out there."

Crowley made a shooing motion. "Getting ahead of yourself there, Halt. Save it for tomorrow when all have been through."

Halt grumbled a bit, but didn't comment further. He wasn't sure if he was more disappointed or glad to see how bad these men were; after all it was nice knowing they didn't actually have the skills to cause trouble once Crowley gave them the boot.

They ate on in silence, with the occasional 'pass me the salt' or 'pass me the bread. No, the other bread, not the scorched one' and casual glances at the wannabe Rangers. They all knew it would be a long afternoon taking them through more tasks and assessing each team.

§

Crowley had declared they would start with one of the theoretical assessments after lunch, so every team got the same task; tactics and battle planning. It wasn't the easiest of the theoretical tasks, but one that they should be able to fulfil fairly easily; at least it should be fairly easy for a Ranger. While Egon, Farrel, and Leander led that task Halt ghosted down into the kitchens and helped himself to some proper food. He was already grumpy enough from seeing so much poor shooting; he didn't need to be extra grumpy, because of poor food and hunger.

As Halt left with bread and cheese in hand he met Berwick in the door. He grinned at him, then stole into the kitchen himself to find some food. Halt allowed himself a small smile. He wondered just how many Rangers would be visiting the kitchens for food. He felt sure Crowley would probably be one of them no matter what he'd said at lunch.

He was right. Crowley had seen Halt go in and had hidden himself so Halt wouldn't notice him. Being very good at unheard movement was a definite advantage he had. Even so he didn't risk going in himself until he was sure he wouldn't be meeting another Ranger in the door. The lunch really had been dreadful.


	2. Chapter 2

Finally. This is what being a Ranger is all about, the young Ranger thought as he looked at the range before him. He felt he had done well in the first tasks of the morning, though he knew cooking wasn't his strongest point, but here was something he felt he would do well at. Archery had been a passion of his since childhood and part of the reason he wanted to be a Ranger; it was an honourable position for a bowman, and he was determined to make a good impression on the young Ranger standing before him. He tried a little smile, but was met with a stoic and grim expression, and mentally shrugged. Perhaps he was in a bad mood after dealing with the other teams.

Halt in his turn gave the three men before him a critical look. Only one of them wore the Ranger's equipment and clothes and he had an air of confidence about him. The other two looked slightly nervous; word had spread during lunch about how relentless the archery tests were, and they were therefore a little apprehensive of Halt.

Good, Halt thought. Be nervous; you are not cut out for this anyway. He let his eyes wander over the confident one again, who gave him a little smile, which he didn't return. We'll see if your skills match that confidence quickly enough.

"All right," Halt called. "You know why you are here. Archery; one of the primary skills of a Ranger. I see you all remembered to bring your bows and arrows, so let's get started without further delay. Kerr, at the ready."

The man Halt had called looked startled for a moment, but quickly recovered and stepped forward bringing up his bow and nocking an arrow to the string, but not yet drawing back.

Halt looked at him as he spoke on. "The task is simple; you shoot six arrows, two at each target. The targets are at 50, 100, and 200 feet. Shoot," he then said without further preamble.

Again Kerr was caught by surprise, but quickly lifted the bow as he drew back and sent the first arrow flying. Halt could see it was a bad shoot even before he released the string; his stance was off and he snatched the release. The arrow bit into the very edge on the lower left.

Kerr bit his lip knowing it was a bad shoot, and took more time sighting the second. Halt again had to fight himself not to tell the man to hurry up.

Kerr's careful shoot did help though; his second hit the outer edge of the second ring on the upper right part of the target. Halt felt he might even hit close to the centre if he got a few more tries. Well, no such luck to you; let's see if you can hit the next target.

The first arrow went past, but he did hit with the second. The last target was a total miss.

Halt noticed a certain look of disdain on the confident one; he clearly wasn't impressed with the shooting either and thought he could do better. Halt decided he wanted to test him last, and see how he reacted to Buttle's shooting first.

"All right," Halt said as Kerr finally let his arms fall down, waiting for the harsh verdict from Halt. He was rather surprised when there wasn't one. "You can pick up your arrows. Buttle, you're next."

Kerr cast a look at Halt's face under the hood, but it was completely impassive and he couldn't get a read of what he thought of his performance. Then he pushed the thought away and went to collect the arrows, hoping he would get a chance to improve on his performance. He didn't know that was just what was coming or that he would dread it when it did happen.

Buttle was a little better than Kerr; his first two arrows hit fairly close to each other on the target, though too high, and he got both into the second target as well, though he took a long time to sight and release and the arrows were farther apart.

Halt noted that while Kerr did look impressed this wasn't the case with the Ranger clad one; he was starting to hope that he might actually prove to have some skill, if for nothing else, then just to break this monotony. Buttle's last two arrows didn't hit anywhere close to each other, but the last did bite into the right edge of the target, and he looked mightily pleased with himself.

Halt noted down his hits and misses and nodded to the man. "Go pick up your arrows." Again he let no hint show of what he thought of his performance. He had decided during the morning that he would remain neutral for the first round of shooting before he showed them what he actually expected of them and set them to shooting again.

He looked at the last of them, as Buttle came back, still looking pleased with his result. The young man had adopted a neutral expression like Halt, though Halt could still sense that air of confidence around him. Halt didn't realise the young man was deliberately mirroring him, and had been doing it with all the Rangers he had been around so far.

"Norrington, at the ready."

As soon as Halt called he stepped forward, grabbing an arrow at the same time, and nocking it to the string. The movement was smooth and practised and Halt felt a little flicker of hope that he might see proper shooting this time.

"Shoot."

Norrington brought up the bow and drew back his arm with a practised ease, then released the arrow sending it flying right into the target. He drew the second arrow and sent it flying after the first had hit the edge between the centre and the second ring. This time he hit the centre.

He didn't wait for Halt to comment, knowing nothing would come until he was done, but as he started shooting at the 100 feet target he heard some mumbled comments from the other two. Both arrows hit, as he had known they would, though only one hit the edge of the centre; the other was a bit farther off than he would have liked, but he didn't allow himself time to think about it. He still had to hit the 200 feet target, which he knew was the hard one; he couldn't afford to be distracted now.

Halt noticed he took longer to sight the last target before he sent the first arrow flying. It hit the target with a muffed whump, going too far to the left and too high. He made some small corrections before sending the last arrow flying, this time hitting closer to the centre, but too low and a little too far to the right. He's using the first arrow as a sighting arrow, Halt realised. It was something Rangers were trained not to do, as they had to be able to hit their target with the first arrow and instinctively know how much elevation and power they would need to hit the mark. Even so it was without a doubt the best shooting Halt had seen today. However, he didn't let that show as he marked down the hits and sent Norrington to collect his arrows.

Norrington looked pleased with himself as he went onto the range and the other two looked dejected, being outshined like that. He felt he had done well. Sure, he wished he had hit the centre cleanly with both arrows on the short range, and he knew his long shots could have been better, but that was a longer range than he usually shot at. The truth was that Norrington was largely self-taught, and while he practised a lot at the shorter ranges, he didn't have a proper long range set up and therefore rarely shoot those long shots.

As he came back he stood before Halt expectant, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"That was your warm up round," Halt told them. "Now I want to see some proper speed to your next shots; four at each target this time."

"What do you define as 'proper speed'?" Norrington asked. He didn't look worried, just curious.

I'll get you worried soon enough, Halt thought. Instead of answering, Halt simply unslung his bow, nocked, sighted, and released three arrows in quick succession at the targets. As the others watched the arrows bury themselves into the centre of each target with Halt barely seeming to glance at them, the colour drained from their faces. Even Norrington's self-confidence seemed to deflate. He had thought his performance good, but compared to Halt he now realised it had been lacking. He would have to do better on the second round if he wanted to impress Halt and ensure good marks on this assessment. He swallowed, suddenly nervous. He would have to do a lot better, he realised.

§

As the team finally left, two of them completely dejected and with shaking arms, and the last with a lot less confidence, but still with his head held high, Halt used the pause before the next team to reflect on Norrington. He was one of the few to wear the Ranger uniform and equipment and the first one today to do any decent shooting. He had a bad habit of using the first arrow as a sighting arrow, and had continued to do so for the second round of shooting, though he had sped up his shots after Halt's little demonstration. Of course, this had caused his shots to be a little less precise, but Halt felt this mostly had to do with improper instruction or simply a lack of instruction. Speeding up had caused him to miss with a few arrows, but he was still miles ahead of any other he had seen so far.

Halt stroked his beard thoughtfully. He wasn't impressed by Norrington's shooting, not by a long shot, but for the first time today he saw potential. Of course, the real question is whether he's any good at the other disciplines or not, Halt thought to himself. It will be interesting to see how he does tomorrow shooting from horseback.

With that thought Halt dismissed Norrington from his mind and set to prepare for the next team. He really wished he could get a cup of coffee first.

§

Crowley watched from a tree, hidden from view by the foliage, the men wandering around the ground beneath him. They were currently doing the tracking task, and only one of them looked like he was used to tracking anything. The other two missed obvious animal signs that Crowley could see even from this distance. Their Ranger judge followed them around as they listed the signs they spotted, noting them down. What they didn't know was that he also noted down everything they missed. But it was clear the constant scratching of the pen was getting to at least two of them; they were casting glances at Leander and his never stopping pen.

When they kept glancing at him he stopped writing for a moment to wave a hand at them and tell them to continue with the task. It didn't take long before they moved out of the area, but before they were out of earshot, Crowley heard Leander call the task to an end and take the team back to his starting point, before sending them on to their next task.

Crowley shook his head slightly. He really should stop checking up on their progress; it just wasn't impressive at all and slightly depressing to watch. And these men called themselves Rangers. Suddenly Crowley was eager to kick them out, but he knew he still had to consider the final results before making any announcements. After all, he still had a small hope that there would be a few suitable candidates among these men since the corps were badly in need of reinforcements.

He crawled down the tree and ghosted out of the forest before Leander could bring the next team around.

§

By evening pretty much everyone were dejected and sore. The wannabe Rangers weren't used to such strenuous activities, with a few exceptions, and the actual Rangers were either disappointed in the performances or glad to know they could kick out this bunch of fops in another day's time.

There was little talk as everyone chewed their way through the less than perfect food, but this time the Kitchen Master was prepared for the stream of unseen Rangers coming to his kitchens after dinner. He had been rather mad when he had first realised a sizable amount of food had gone missing after lunch, and had realised only the Rangers had the necessary skills to sneak into the kitchen, steal the food, and sneak out again without being seen, but had then felt some empathy for them as he remembered the food they had had to eat.

This was why he had made one of his students bake a large plate of cookies and another worker some extra bread, which had either been covered with butter, honey, or jam, and left on a plate in plain sight.

He'd had some trouble keeping the Ranger's being tested from sampling the cookies and bread leading up to dinner, but his ladle was an effective deterrent, and he was now casting glances at the two plates regularly to see if anything was going missing.

He felt a jolt in the stomach when he realised two cookies and one buttered bread had suddenly disappeared from the plates, despite him constantly casting glances at them. Over the next fifteen minutes the cookies and bread plates were slowly emptying out without him ever seeing a Ranger. He thought he caught a glance of someone once out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to fully look in that direction there was no one to be seen.

Finally only a couple of jam covered bread pieces were left and the cookie plate had been emptied out. The Kitchen Master had noted with some interest which types of toppings seemed most popular, and now knew what to expect the next day.

He smiled to himself as he planned what to prepare for the proper Rangers' after lunch tomorrow and what trap he could set so that they wouldn't be able to take the food without him seeing them. This was a fun game, he thought to himself. He cast one final glance at the plates, and made a mental note that Rangers like cookies.

§

Jurgen was leading the final task of the day; upkeep of equipment. Every Ranger being assessed had the same task; to show they knew how to keep their equipment in working order and store it properly. Egon, Farrel, and Halt were helping since all teams were being assessed at the same time and were walking around making notes on the process and the final result as each one finished with a piece of equipment. Jurgen noted with some interest that Halt seemed to make everyone nervous whenever he drew near. He's got them scared after archery today, he realised. Good. That should keep them from trying anything stupid. Farrel had much the same effect, but Jurgen thought that might have to do with the battleaxe hanging from his belt.

He continued scanning the crowd of men making sure no one tried to cheat by switching their less than perfect equipment for someone else's better equipment. Luckily it seemed they had all learned their lesson earlier today, when Farrel had caught someone trying to cheat on tactics and battle planing, and had proceeded to give said person a lesson on why it was a stupid idea to cheat in front of a Ranger. Now there was no attempt to take finished arrows from someone sitting nearby, but a quiet concentration and trepidation with a lot casting fugitive glances at their team mates to see how they did things.

By the time the first were done, they looked relieved to be allowed to go to bed, and the rest looked worried they weren't done yet. Only a few seemed more concerned with getting things done right rather than fast, and these were the ones Jurgen imprinted in his memory. He, too, really hoped they would find at least a couple of Ranger worthy people among these men, as the pressure of the last couple of months had been felt clearly and he knew the coming months would only be worse as the weather started growing colder. But hopefully some of the old Ranger's would soon be back as word got out that Crowley had taken over along with Prince Duncan. Now all they could do was continue as usual and wait.

§

By the time he could finally head to bed Norrington felt ready to sleep for a day. It wasn't the physical activities of the day that had tired him out, but rather the mental strain of trying to do as good as the Rangers the whole day and excel at each task. He had felt confident starting out, sure in the knowledge that he was miles better than any of the other candidates. Sure there might be one or two others who could rival him, but he felt he had the skills necessary to impress the new Ranger Commandant and the Rangers leading each task.

The first time his confidence had suffered a hit was when he'd seen Halt shoot. He had made it look so effortless and done it so fast it was unbelievable. He'd been shaken then and worried that he might not live up to the new standard.

But over the day he had realised Halt was probably the best of the archers in the corps, because there was no way every Ranger could be that skilled. In fact he had come to the conclusion that the Commandant had probably chosen each Ranger for their task based on who was best at what, and that thought had comforted him some. He was seeing the pinnacle of skills the whole corps had in each discipline. They weren't expecting him to be as good as the individual Rangers in each skill, but to present a fair knowledge and skill all around. At least that was what he hoped was the case. Because if it wasn't... Norrington shook his head. No, he wouldn't complete that thought. He knew the Ranger Corps were in need of Rangers; a dozen weren't anywhere near enough, and they would be interested in keeping on the best among them. And he felt sure he was among the best though it was hard to be sure when he only had his two team mates to compare with.

No, the real question was how the Ranger Commandant was going to play this. Would he go for a certain overall score and keep on those above it? Or a percentage of the best? Or some third option he hadn't yet thought of? One thing was certain; most of the men being assessed would not stay Rangers, the Commandant had made that clear, when he talked of a slipping standard. He just needed to make sure he would be one of those that stayed.

He slept almost as soon as he hit the pillow ready for some solid hours of sleep. Little did he know he would not get nearly as much rest as hoped for.


	3. Chapter 3

"Up! Get up now!" The yelling shook the men from their sleep as the Rangers flung doors open and entered the rooms, demanding the men being assessed got up. Any who was slow to comply would have his blanket pulled away, and if he was still too slow, he would get a ladle of water in the face. That got even the most stubborn out of bed, sputtering and cursing. The Rangers didn't care.

"Get your clothes on and be in the second courtyard in ten minutes!"

Norrington stumbled as he quickly grabbed his clothes. Ten minutes was only just enough to get there without having to dress first, but he had a feeling he did not want to be late for whatever this was, so he hurried, and finished dressing even as he was going down the corridor. He almost forgot his bow, but turned around in the doorway and grabbed it; he was pretty sure he wouldn't be needing it, but he had learned not to make assumptions about the Rangers today, and besides he wanted to make a good impression. Showing up without his bow probably wouldn't do that.

All along the hallway men were stumbling out of their rooms, most still half asleep, and quite a few improperly dressed; their clothes were askew and they hadn't put on all their equipment.

Seeing their tousled clothes and hair, Norrington quickly straightened his own clothing and ran a hand through his hair, while he checked he had all his equipment both mentally and with his hands. He was halfway to the courtyard when he realised he had forgotten his bracer. He mentally swore and berated himself, but knew he'd be late if he were to run back to get it. He would just have to hope he wouldn't need to fire any arrows and that the Rangers didn't see the missing piece. He sighed to himself. They would definitely see it. At least he had his knives and bow and arrows.

His spirits lifted as he saw that he was one of the first to arrive. Of course, a few Rangers stood waiting for them, not moving or speaking, but that was what he expected. Most of the others followed quickly behind, but there were a few who took several minutes to arrive. Norrington watched the Rangers for reaction; those last men had arrived far later than had been stated, but the Rangers said nothing and their faces showed no hint of what they thought of the lateness. They didn't move or speak until the last man had stumbled into the courtyard, sleep still clinging to his mind.  
"Now that everyone are here, we can begin," one of them said. Norrington couldn't see who was speaking due to the raised hood casting the face in shadows.

"Begin with what?" a man grumbled. He looked displeased with being woken in the middle of the night and forced out of bed.

Three hooded Rangers turned their heads towards the speaker. It was an eerie thing to watch here in the dark of the night, and the man also suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

"You are here for the night exercise," came the calm reply after a too long, uncomfortable pause. "You'll each be given a place to reach and bring back the item there to Lewin here." He nodded to one of the hooded Rangers standing silent in the group. "Your progress will, of course, be monitored. Come forward and get your assignment once your name is called, and then be on your way. Norton!"

Norton started at the sudden exclamation then hurried forward with a slightly nervous look. He got a slip of paper and hurried away and over to a burning torch to see what was on it.

The men were called in quick order; some were quick to leave, others spent a long time looking at their slip and frowning at it. Those who had already been through unseen and unheard movement assessment during the day had an idea of what was expected, but that didn't do much to settle their nerves.

Meralon strode forward confidently and took his slip, looked at it shortly, then strode away with just as much confidence. He cast a look of contempt towards the others as they tried to make sense of the directions on their slips or nervously approached the outer courtyard and the gate to the surrounding land. Clearly very few of them felt confident walking outside the gates alone at night, even if the summer night meant that it wasn't pitch black, but merely dark.

Warton took his slip as the last, cast a look at it, then hurried after the others not wanting to be left alone with the three Rangers.

None of the three Rangers spoke as they watched the men leave. Finally when they were sure none were close Crowley turned to Lewin.

"I think we're in for a long night; most of them didn't seem to have a clue what to do with the directions given."

Lewin nodded and sighed. "I agree. Very few seemed to have any idea where to go and mostly just seemed to be following the flood."

"And there was a shocking lack of weapons; that's just sloppy," Berwick commented. The others nodded.

"I must say I'm not getting my hopes up of finding any actual candidates among these men; few even wear the uniform and equipment," Crowley admitted. "And yes, I know I said I wouldn't judge beforehand, but they just doesn't seem to know what it really takes to be a Ranger."

Berwick snorted. "Oh, I think it's for certain that most of them don't have a clue. At least we can now get the corps properly cleaned up and make room for proper Rangers."

"That's true," Crowley agreed. "And they did get a shot at proving themselves. We'll see how they do with this and the rest during the day."

"For now I'd kill for some coffee and cookies," Lewin said.

"Kill?" Crowley said raising an eyebrow.

Lewin shrugged. "As you said it will be a long night, and I can't go to bed until the last straggler has arrived." He paused as a thought occurred to him. "You did put a time cap on this task, right?"

Crowley grinned at him. "No. But we'll round the stragglers up if they have not found their way back by sunrise; I want breakfast."

Lewin groaned. "I'm in for a really long shift then."

Crowley patted his shoulder. "Don't worry; that's why I assigned Berwick to help you out; you can take turns sleeping and watching." He looked at both of them in turn. "I suggest that Berwick take first shift, then go to sleep as Lewin takes over. I doubt anyone will return within the next hour, possible the next two, but if they do, then wake Lewin."

"Thanks, Crowley," Lewin said dryly.

Crowley just grinned in response.

"Look at the bright side," Berwick said. "At least we're not stuck in trees or hiding beneath bushes for half the night or longer."

"True."

"And I did bring coffee for you," Crowley revealed. Both men perked up at that. Crowley left them to make a coffee over the little fire they had lit in the courtyard, before he headed back to bed himself. In case anyone got lost during the night he had put himself on round up duty and he wanted some solid hours of sleep before then. He felt pretty sure there would be at least one, even with the dim light. Some people just had no sense of direction.

§

Crowley's suspicions came true; quite a few wandered around having no clue how to find their target, and even those who did, took a long time returning. The first man to return was Meralon in just over one and a half hour, having found his item and brought it back. Tobias and Norrington, also both Ranger clad, returned around the two hours mark. Berwick and Lewin noted with some interest that the Ranger clad men were generally first to return and only one man in ordinary clothes got back before the last Ranger clad man.

As they reached the three hour mark and Lewin was now sitting alone, sipping coffee and waiting on the half that had yet to return, the sky had started to grow lighter, which should help them find their way. And also defeat the purpose of the night exercise. Lewin resisted the urge to shake his head as another weary man made his way back to him, handed over the gauntlet that had been his object to return, and finally sent him away after he had noted down his name, the time, and checked it was the right object given.

At five two were still missing, and it was now close to dawn. With the early pre-dawn light they shouldn't have trouble finding their way any more and Castle Araluen was easy to spot from a distance. Of course, there was the risk they had managed to get themselves truly lost during the night and had wandered far away. When Crowley came back to Lewin a short time later there were still no sign of the two men.

"Status."

Lewin shook his head. "We're still two short. Most of the others have gone to bed for a couple of hours of sleep, except the search team." He showed Crowley his note board with the two missing names.

Crowley sighed, but he wasn't surprised. "Guess we'll have to track them down then. Stay for another ten minutes then head to bed and get a little extra sleep yourself, Lewin."

Lewin looked relived at the thought and Crowley couldn't blame him; he had enjoyed getting some solid sleep in during the night, but he knew the others would generally be tired and in some cases also grumpy due to the lack of sleep. He quickly walked to the outer courtyard with the slim hope that the last two would already be on their way. His hope was dashed the moment he saw Halt's grumpy face.

"Bloody, annoying, useless idiots!" Halt quietly exclaimed. "Why did they have to go and get themselves lost? Now we have to spend time tracking them down."

Crowley patted him sympathetically on the back. "I know. But we can't simply leave them wandering around on their own."

"You sure? They got themselves lost; they can bloody well get themselves back," Halt grumbled. He was tired and still a little sore from having been sitting in trees half the night. He had no problem being angry at these men for getting lost in the dark making him stay out here and now spending time tracking them down.

"Come on," Crowley said. They went over to the other two on the search team, who were currently keeping a lookout, hoping to spot the missing men. Norris came down from his perch on the battlement as they approached.

"Still no sign of them," he said as way of greeting.

Halt huffed and Crowley shrugged. "We'll find them."

They went outside and met up with Leander, who came down from his tree.

"Morning. I've been scanning all directions and already done some preliminary sweeps, but the men have been blundering around so much that their tracks are constantly crossing making it hard to get a good bearing. This will be quite the test of _our_ skill, Crowley."

Crowley sighed. "Yeah, I know. But there's nothing to it, but to get started. If you find a man you know what signal to sound to let the rest of us know. Find anything promising?"

Leander nodded. "Actually, I did. My best leads are in these three directions," he said pointing them out. "There's a more confusing part in that direction, so I'll take that myself, since I've already been over it once."

Crowley nodded. It made sense rather than to have one of the others starting over in that area. "All right. Norris, you go in that direction, Halt you go in that. I'll take the last. Do wide sweeps until you are sure of your track; a lot of men has been blundering around these forests during the night, so it will be difficult to make sure we are following the right tracks. You know what their goals were, but there's no guarantee they got anywhere near them. Let's get going and hope to find them swiftly."

"You could at least have brought coffee for us first," Halt grumbled, but he started out in his appointed direction nonetheless. Crowley realised that might actually have been a good idea, but pushed the thought aside as he set out himself. No use thinking about that know.

§

Leander had chosen the most difficult area to search for himself. There were a lot of tracks going in all directions here, criss-crossing and looping, and he often crawled into trees to get a better overview of the ground. He also listened keenly hoping to hear one of the missing men. He tried to remember what the two men had been wearing when they headed out; he knew it wasn't the Ranger's clothes, so at least they should be pretty easy to spot if any of them came close enough.

Leander had crawled yet another tree to scan to tracks left on the ground and listening to the sounds of the forest when he heard something that didn't belong. He turned his heard towards the sound and listened more closely. Yes, that sound definitely didn't belong in the forest. He was just about to crawl down to further investigate when he caught a glimpse of a bright green shirt through the trees. Then Riverfolk came staggering into the clearing Leander had been observing. The man looked completely lost, he was dirty on knees and hands from falling over something during the night, and Leander spotted some minor tears in his breeches probably from some thorn bush Riverfolk had gotten too close to. He walked around unsure of his surroundings and with slumped shoulders.

Well, that's an exhausted man if I've ever seen one, Leander thought to himself. He quickly crawled down from the tree, but despite not trying to be particularly quiet about it, Riverfolk didn't notice him. Leander had to put himself right in front of him before he got any reaction, and then Riverfolk jumped back screaming in fright, putting his arms up in front of himself as if to ward him off.

What a brave recruit to the corps he is, Leander though sarcastically. He did decide not to scare the man any further though.

"Relax, Riverfolk. It is merely me."

Riverfolk lowered his arms, and gave him a confused look. "You? Oh, Ranger. Does that mean the Castle is nearby?"

"It is," Leander confirmed.

Riverfolk looked so relieved at that Leander almost felt sorry for him. It seemed he had walked around completely lost for some time.

"Can we go back now?" he pleaded.

Leander nodded. He took a step back and cupped his hands around his mouth as he drew a deep breath and sounded the signal they had all agreed upon. Riverfolk jumped at the loud sound, but Leander paid him no head. He had found one of the missing men and that meant his job was done for now. He only had to bring him back to the castle and then hope that other lost idiot Brennan would soon be found.

He turned to go, then noticed Riverfolk standing there looking uncertain. He waved impatiently at him. "Well, come on. Let's get you back to the castle."

Riverfolk hurried after him as he started walking, not wanting to be left behind and lost in the forest again.

§

Halt was grumbling internally, but he kept completely quiet as he stalked through the forest in the early morning light, trying to track down the two missing men. Leander had been right; tracking them wasn't easy due to how much the men had been stumbling around during the night and crossing each other's tracks. It often meant following a track for a while then going back and following another. The sun was up now, but it hadn't penetrated the canopy of the forest, which was still fairly dark.

Halt was employing the same tracking technique as Leander and crawling up into trees when there was a clearing or many tracks crossing so he could better get an overview of them and then decide on a course. He was tired from having been up most of the night, and grumpy that Crowley hadn't brought coffee before sending them out on this hunt. As far as he was concerned the idiots could very well make their own way back to the castle, but Crowley had insisted they would be responsible for their relative safety during the Gathering.

Halt snorted quietly to himself. These men didn't deserve to be Rangers and so they didn't deserve to be part of any Gathering, but here they were, and here he was, walking through the forest in the early morning trying to find an idiot, who had gotten himself lost.

A sound different from the birds singing suddenly sounded through the air; it was faint, but distinct, and Halt allowed himself a tight smile. That's one. Now we just have to find the other idiot, he thought to himself.

Halt continued his search hoping to hear the second signal soon, but there was no such luck. His path had taken him back towards the castle, and now he could glimpse the sun through the canopy every now and then filtering down into the forest. Halt wasn't just thirsty and in need of coffee; he was also hungry and wanted breakfast. He was starting to consider just going back to the castle, when a sound gave him pause. It had been a soft rustling sound, but it had somehow sounded wrong for the forest. He strained his ears for another sound and then he heard it; a soft rustling that lasted for only a couple of seconds.

He went in the direction the sound had come from treading softly and silently drew an arrow, casually nocking it to his bowstring. The rustling has sounded almost suspiciously like cloth, and while that might mean one of the missing men it could also be bandits. There were no footsteps or anything to indicate a man wandering around lost, and Halt preferred to be prepared for the worst.

His eyes scanned from side to side as he listened keenly to the forest around him. Then he heard another sound and he stopped dead in his tracks in a mixture of shock and anger. He scowled as he walked a few more steps, rounded a bush and looked down upon the man sleeping there.

Anger boiled up in him; the idiot was asleep?! He had wasted their time, because he had decided to sleep instead of finishing the task?! Although Halt lowered his bow he was tempted to shoot the idiot, just a little, like maybe in the foot or something. He kicked his leg instead.

"Up!" he commanded. "Get up now!"

The kick and Halt's sharp tone got Brennan to wake and sit up suddenly. Then he noticed Halt's expression and he fearfully withdrew pushing himself back.

Halt followed. "Get. Up. Now," he said through clenched teeth.

Brennan withdrew until his back was up against a tree. If Halt hadn't been so angry he would have been amused at how the other man scrambled backwards on his hands and rump. Unable to get any further from the furious Halt Brennan finally got himself onto his legs.

"I..I...I...I was..." he stammered.

"Get going," came the brusque answer. Halt hadn't removed his arrow from the string and Brennan looked at it fearfully.

"NOW!" Halt shouted at him, loosing the arrow right next to his head.

Brennan jumped in fright. He then quickly took off in the direction Halt had been pointing and Halt looked after him with disgust. He was so angry at having wasted his time to this idiot he almost forgot to sound the second signal to the others, but remembered just as he was retrieving his arrow and putting it back into the quiver. Then he followed the now thoroughly scared man back towards Castle Araluen, still fantasying about kicking his ass and giving him a lesson in why you didn't piss off Rangers.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Sorry for the lateness of posting today; got caught up with family instead. And last chapter marked a new milestone for me; past 100,000 words archived on this site! Thanks to all who read (and comment).

* * *

"I can't believe he was actually stupid enough to go to sleep not only during a task, but also in the middle of the forest." Berrigan shook his head. "That could have ended badly for him."

"I should have just shot the idiot," Halt grumbled. "Clearly he's too stupid to live." Even though Halt now had a cup of steaming coffee and food in front of him, he was still fuming.

Crowley frowned. "I think that would set a bad precedent, Halt. Besides it will be much more satisfying to kick him out once he's been dragged through all of the tasks."

Halt snorted. "I'd be happy to kick him right now."

"Save it," Crowley said. "We still have plenty to do today before we kick anyone out."

"I thought you were supposed to stay neutral, Crowley?" Berwick remarked.

Crowley shrugged. "I was. At least until someone decided to act that stupidly. He didn't just score low tonight, he got into the negative. He won't make it no matter what."

"But we're still going to have him do the rest of the tasks?"

"Of course," Crowley said. "Remember; we also want them to know what a real Ranger is like; once they leave Araluen none of them should be in any doubt as to whether or not we can kick their asses at any time, any place."

That statement was met with tight smiles around the table. After the events so far and in particular this night and morning the Rangers weren't feeling very charitable towards the wannabe Rangers. And judging from the nervous looks many of them cast in the direction of the real Rangers they were well aware of this and worried about the day to come.

§

"What do you think you are doing?" Halt's sharp voice cut in.

"Um, shooting at the target, sir," the man answered nervously. He glanced back towards the target he had just fired at and realised with a sinking heart that his arrow had completely missed it. He looked back at the irate Ranger sitting astride his little Ranger horse.

"Is that so?" Halt raised an eyebrow. "It didn't look that way. More like randomly waving your bow around and then loosing an arrow. You're supposed to actually aim at the target _before_ you start shooting your arrows!" The hard rebuke made the other man flinch. After yesterday they had all gotten a healthy amount of respect for Halt, not to mention, a little fear. Everybody had seen him shoot and over breakfast they had heard about his reaction to finding Brennan asleep in the forest. Brennan had sworn he thought Halt might shoot him, and the others had come to the conclusion it was probably best not to get on the Ranger's bad side. Unfortunately for them Halt's opinion of the wannabes was already pretty low and he was extra grumpy from the lack of sleep during the night. Avoiding getting on his bad side was virtually impossible.

"I...um...I'll remember that for my next pass," he got out, visibly nervous and fingering his reins. His horse sensed the nervousness of its rider and stepped around alert for trouble.

"Damn right, you will," Halt bit out. "You get another four passes, and _try_ not to shoot any arrows in our direction this time."

Riverfolk nodded and bid back a retort. He didn't think he had shoot _that_ badly, at least it had been in the right direction, but he knew better than to provoke the irate Ranger. You didn't go poking a bear with a stick either.

He continued with his passes, and although Halt refrained from further comment, his expression was displeased. It was clear he was anything but happy with what he saw.

Norrington pursed his own lips in a displeasure matching Halt's. Not so much because Riverfolk had personally annoyed him; he had already figured he wouldn't make it, but because he figured that an irate Halt might mean he would be harsher on him as well, and Norrington was serious about being a Ranger. He didn't want anything to happen that might impede his way into the Corps proper. He sighed silently realising that there was absolutely nothing he could do about Halt's annoyance. His two team mates were simply hopeless. All he could do was make sure he did not add to it by doing his very best. Norrington looked as his second team mate started on his five arrows riding towards and then past the target, firing an arrow along the way. Five passes, five arrows. That was the rules as Halt had stated them.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Yesterday they had each fired two arrows at three targets, then Halt had demonstrated how it should be done, before they had shot again. He wondered if today would follow the same pattern; test them, then show how to do it, then test them again.

When it became his turn he eyed the target carefully; none of the others had managed to hit the centre though both had hit the target. He would have to do better. A lot better.

"Well?" Halt's impatient voice came from his left. "Are you going to start or are you waiting for permission?" There was a certain amount of sarcasm in his voice.

Norrington gritted his teeth in frustration and nodded curtly to Halt. Don't antagonise him further, he reminded himself. Then he spurred his horse, bow ready in his hand. As he neared he released the reins with his right hand, drew an arrow and carefully aimed at the target before loosing it. He saw the first arrow bite into the outer ring and pressed his lips together tightly. It was better than what the other two had done, but he knew he would have to do better. He wheeled his horse around for the next pass.

He knew it was a bad shot the moment after he released the arrow; he had mistimed the rhythm of the horse and the arrow flew short. He quickly wheeled around again for another pass, and loosed another arrow at the target. This one hit, just not the actually target area. Instead it grazed the top of it and lodged itself into the wooden frame holding the target in place. So close! Norrington thought in frustration. Unfortunately he was pretty sure Halt wouldn't count that one as a hit. Two arrows left. As he wheeled his horse around again he took a deep breath trying to steady himself. He needed these two to be hits. As he galloped towards the target he took his time focusing on it, aiming with the tip of the arrow and letting it follow the target. He felt an immense amount of satisfaction as it went into the second ring. One pass and one arrow left. As long as this one hit he would have done better than both of the others and he would get more than half his arrows into the target. He heard the final arrow slam into the target, but was a bit disappointed it had hit just between the second and third ring. He tried not to let it show. He knew he had done better than both the others, but he wasn't yet sure just what Halt was expecting of them. Probably perfection.

As soon as Halt had finished his notes and nodded at him to pick up his arrows, Norrington quickly complied and then returned to the others. It was a difficult exercise, but he felt he had done alright. Not perfect, but alright.

Halt quickly shattered that feeling. "Well, that was a sorry excuse for archery," he said. "One might think you have never shot from horseback before." He shook his head. "I guess I'll have to show you lot how it's done." With that he unslung his bow and sent his horse running forward with pressure from his heels.

Norrington realised Halt was controlling his horse with just his knees, and he watched intently as he picked an arrow, nocked it and shot, all in one smooth movement. Then he surprised all of them by picking a second arrow and shooting it on the same pass. He was barely past the target before he wheeled his horse and stopped facing them.

"You...you just...shots two arrows at the same time!" Riverfolk exclaimed.

Halt shook his head. "No, I shot two arrows right after each other," he corrected the other man.

"But you shot two arrows in the same pass," Norrington said, looking impressed. "I thought it was five passes, five arrows?"

Halt looked at him, locking eyes. "I said you got five passes and five arrows. I didn't say you couldn't fire more than one arrow on each pass."

Norrington nodded his understanding. This test was even harder than he had realised. "Makes sense. Speed is important."

Halt snorted. "So is accuracy. Speed is nothing without it."

Norrington nodded again. He knew it would impress Halt if he could shoot two arrows in one pass, but only if they actually hit the target. Otherwise it was probably better to play it safe and shoot one arrow each pass. He wondered if they would now get a second chance to improve on their first results. He was right.

"Alright, Riverfolk, second round. Once again you get five passes and five arrows. Do try to do better this time around, please."

The man swallowed nervously as he got ready for his second run.

Halt will destroy any man not up to his standard. We are so screwed, Norrington thought.

§

It was almost a relief to the assembled men when they had another theoretical test. They had all learned from yesterday that any attempt at cheating would be dealt with harshly, so each sat bent over his own paper, sweating with both the midday heat and nervousness as they tried to remember all the details of Araluen's geography. The test was made harder than it would have been had they done it yesterday by the fact that they were all tired from the many tests and the interrupted sleep during the night. Those who had gotten the most sleep found it easier to sit still and stay awake than those who had barely slept. And if anyone nodded off he got a sharp whack with the feathered end of an arrow to wake him up again. After that the man in question usually stayed awake, too fearful of another whack to fall asleep.

It was with a mixture of relief and panic when the men were released from the test an hour later for their final assessments.

§

"Alright, line up!" Crowley's sharp commend rang out over the assembled Rangers and wannabes. The Rangers, naturally, stood around in a loose order keeping watch over the other men. Each Ranger had brought in the last team he had tested for this final assessment, and the men now stood in the middle quickly forming a more or less straight line. Those few Rangers who hadn't had anyone to test held their watchful positions further back, but still within hearing distance of Crowley.

The last team Halt had tested and so those he had brought in had looked at him in fear and then tried to stand as far away from him as possible. Halt's bad mood had only gotten worse as the day progressed and he had taken team after team through shooting from horseback. By now he didn't walk around the castle grounds any more, he stalked around them.

Farrel who had taken the teams through the task of simply showing they could ride a horse and control it wasn't in a much better mood. As far as he was concerned most of them didn't have a clue as to what real riding was, and the fancy riding most of the men favoured was met with disdain and frowns. Most of the men also tried keeping distance to him, and with Halt and Farrel on each their side of the little semi circle around the assembled men, the line ended up being somewhat squished together around the middle.

Crowley looked at them in amusement though his face didn't show it. The task of making sure the men here knew what a real Ranger was and could do had certainly succeeded judging from the fearful expressions on most faces. Only around a handful didn't seem afraid of the Rangers, and even among those he could see some trepidation when they glanced in Halt's direction. You've made quite a mess of them, Halt, Crowley thought. Now for the final fun.

"Now that you're all ready, it's time for your final assessment," Crowley told the gathered wannabes. "We've seen your skills in different areas, but we still need to test your overall physique and speed." Crowley let his eyes run over the assembled men as he spoke, watching their reactions. "You will therefore go through an obstacle course, and you will naturally be timed as you do. Everybody will be sent off with short periods of time in between each team. Be quick and be precise." He noticed how some of the trepidation and fear had disappeared from the faces in front of him, when they found out the last task was an obstacle course. A few others looked pained at the thought and Crowley guessed those weren't in great shape and that they knew it. And a few even looked excited or smug, knowing or at least thinking they would ace this. Crowley couldn't wait to see if they still thought that as they got to navigate the course.

"Alright, follow me!" Farrel bellowed, and the other Rangers were delighted to see how many jumped at his voice. Very few of the men had managed to impress any of them.

Crowley had, with the help of Halt of course, constructed an obstacle course in the forest a little away from the castle. During the other exercises he had made sure no one would get near it, though with all the blundering around that had happened during the night it was a bit of a miracle that no one had ended up stumbling across it anyway. Now Farrel lead the way and the cluster of men followed along, a bit unsure of what to expect. The other Rangers also followed along, strolling along casually.

Most of the Rangers were in a pretty good mood; the assessments were almost over and this time they would get to watch the men struggle through the course with no role, but to take time. It had the promise of being easy on them and hard on the hopefuls and wannabes. And they would get proper food for the evening meal since the men were done in the kitchen, something several of them were already looking forward to.

They reached the starting point of the obstacle course and Crowley called them all to order again, to deliver some final instructions.

"You'll start from here, and be sent off based on your original team number. You have to complete the whole course for it to count; no cheating. And just in case someone should want to skip an obstacle, know that there will be Rangers watching all around," Crowley added. He now pointed to a line drawn in the ground a little way off the starting line. "This is the finish line. Once you cross it your time will be noted down and you'll be done. Then you can go back to the castle to fresh up and relax. Any questions?"

There were several looks of relief at those words. The thought of being able to relax after the last two days were a very welcome one, and some looked eager to get through the obstacle course now. They would get wiser soon enough. One man raised his hand. Crowley nodded at him.

"Shall we bring weapons for this?"

Crowley nodded at him in acknowledgement of the question. "Not necessary," he replied. "But I won't stop you if you do."

The man nodded and quickly took off his bow and quiver. The others followed suit and there was a moment of mild chaos as everyone was putting their weapons to the side.

"Alright, Team One, get to the starting line. Team Two, line up behind them."

The men quickly complied and Crowley nodded to Egon, who would take time. "Get ready. Start." He said it almost casually and there was a brief moment before the three men realised they had just been told to run. Then they took off towards the first obstacle.

Not wanting to be caught unprepared, Team Two had quickly stepped up to the starting line after Team One had taken off and were now trying to keep watch of both Crowley and the men in front of them, now at the first obstacle, a small wall, to be ready to run.

"Start," Crowley said, and Lewin turned the next timeglass while the men bolted across the ground.

Crowley only allowed for 30 seconds between each team, and he knew that the men in best shape would soon overtake those in lesser shape. But this wasn't just about how fast you could run; the obstacle course had walls, ropes, tunnels, balancing poles over pools of water, and you would need agility and strength as much as speed to get through it.

After the last team was sent off, Crowley found himself a good watching point together with Halt on a small knoll. They had in fact prepared it before the Gathering and several of the other Rangers joined them there; from here they could easily see most of the course as well as the finish line.

The men had already gotten spread out and the teams mixed. The ones on front had just reached the first balancing act with water under them, crossing a pond stepping from one flat wooden pole to the next. The poles were spaced so they were best crossed with a bit of speed, but they were fairly wide and offered easy stepping points. Even so it only took until the fourth man before someone fell into the water with a loud splash. The Rangers chuckled.

"And to think that was the easy one," Leander said, shaking his head. "He'll have trouble with the others if he thinks this one is hard."

"True," Crowley said. "I'm guessing a lot of them won't have the balance for the trunk a little later on. Lighten up, Halt; this is free entertainment," he added looking at his friend's dark face. Halt was definitely still in a bad mood. Well Crowley had something that would help with that.

As he turned to the small canvas bag he had brought along he heard another splash and yell, quickly followed by yet another one. He looked up to see another two men wadding out of the pond soaked through their clothes. He chuckled. They would find it both hard and unpleasant to get through the rest of the course with sodden clothes. He watched them struggle up a large rope net and then down again before getting down on their stomachs to crawl under a net only a half meter above ground.

"Cookie, Halt?" Crowley held the cookie out to him in offer.

Halt raised an eyebrow as he accepted it. "Been raiding the kitchen again, Crowley?"

"Absolutely," Crowley said with a grin.

"Well, that explains why I didn't get one after lunch," Lewin said.

Crowley grinned at him and handed him a cookie.

"Much better," Lewin said munching happily on the cookie.

Crowley handed cookies out to every Ranger around him, and they soon found themselves smiling and chuckling with mirth as they watched the progress of the men navigating the obstacle course, and making bets on when and where the different men would fall or get stuck. Even Halt's mood lifted as he watched the hopeless men he had tested falling into water holes and crawling on the ground so they became a very muddy mess. This was good entertainment.

§

The first obstacle was only a meter high and with a bit of speed and timing you could jump right over it. That is, if you had the necessary coordination and control of your body. The biggest issue was not to be afraid; if you feared the wall and feared stumbling on it, then you surely would.

The obstacle two meters behind it was a wooden beam also at one meter, but with arrows painted on it pointing downward. There could be no mistake that you had to go under this one.

Shortly after that came an easy balancing act where you had to run along a split log just 30 centimeters above ground. All easy warm up exercises.

Or at least they were for those who kept themselves in shape. Meralon jumped the wall, rolled under the beam and ran lightly across the chosen log – there were four to choose between – and continued on to the first rope net he had to climb.

He felt no remorse for the man, who tried to copy him, but then hesitated at the last moment, which meant he didn't get the power into his jump that he needed to clear the wall and instead tripped over it. He could hear yells and splashes all around, but he paid them no heed. He was determined to do well, and that meant ignoring everyone else, jumping over fallen men and choosing a path where he wouldn't risk being held up by a floundering idiot.

He was only annoyed as he ran to the other side of the first pond to find that the ground was somewhat muddy and he had to crawl through that. How annoying these amateurs were.

§

By some miracle Littlecreek had made it through the first and second part involving water without getting wet. He'd managed to cross the poles and swing across on the rope, but now he struggled as he bad to balance his way across a rough log about 25 centimeters in diameter. The second wall had been tough as well; one and a half meters was too high to jump and needed some arm strength to get up and over. At least he hadn't been the only one struggling, far from it. And those with sodden clothes tended to struggle more, because of the extra weight of the water and mud.

As he slowly and precariously worked his way across he saw another man practically running across. What was his name? Well, one of the Ranger clad ones, possibly Mertan.

He took another step forward, felt himself start to overbalance to the right and then overcompensated to the left. He tried to save his balance by taking another quick step forward, but to no avail. With a loud splash he fell in the water and a moment later he surfaced again, sputtering and wiping water off his face. But he knew he didn't have time to rest. He pushed on; that rope net 30 centimeters above the ground looked difficult with his heavy, water filled clothes...

§

He was making good time, that he was sure of. He had easily cleared the second wall by jumping up, grabbing onto the top and putting a foot against the wall to keep his inertia going up and forward. He had plenty of speed and strength and a good balance; as a child he had loved practising his balance on fences, stone walls, and logs in the forest and whatever else he could find. So far nothing had truly held him up, but he had had to make some quick, short detours around the other men.

He was almost there. He cleared the low net without tripping and ran towards what he hoped was the final wall; this one stood two meters high and would be a challenge even for him. The wall was very wide allowing for several men to try at once.

Norrington ran at it, and like before he jumped up to grab the top so he could pull himself up and over, but didn't get a good grip on it. He made a quick decision and let go. Trying to pull himself up without a good grip would most likely lead to him losing his grip while trying to get up and that would just risk injury and a further delay. Instead he quickly ran back a few meters, turned around and judged the distance. Then he ran forward once more and jumped. This time his fingers got a better grip and he inserted his foot between himself and the wall so he could give himself a little push up. It was still mostly about using his arms to heave himself up, but he had a strong upper body and soon had one leg across. He looked down to see what was on the other side, not wanting to be surprised in case the Rangers had decided to leave something there. He didn't think they would do something to hurt them, but they did like surprises.

Seeing nothing but solid ground he moved to swing his other leg up, but felt something tugging on it at the same time. Looking down the other side he saw a man desperately clinging onto it and trying to use it to get himself up.

"Please, help me!" The man looked desperate. "I'll never get over on my own."

"I think that would be cheating, and we're not allowed to cheat," Norrington replied. He tried to shake the other man off while keeping his balance.

"Please! Anything! Just help me."

Norrington felt sorry for the other man. He suspected most men would have trouble with this wall and struggle to get over it. "Alright. Give me your hand."

The man let go of his leg with one hand and reached up, but didn't let go with the other until he had a grip on Norrington's hand.

"Alright, jump on three and get a grip on the top. One, two, three!" The man jumped and Norrington pulled placing his hand over the top of the wall. The other man then hung there, knuckles white.

"Help me get the rest of the way!" he begged.

Norrington shook his head. "You have to get over it yourself. I've helped you get a good grip. Now hurry before you lose it." And with that he swung his other leg over and let himself drop to the other side, bending his knees to absorb the impact.

§

It was a sorry lot that finally made their way back to Castle Araluen later on, when the last man had managed to finish the obstacle course. They had ended up with a bunch of them bundled up before the third and final wall, unable to get over it, because of bad physique and muddy clothes. One had finally decided to try and walk around, but an arrow had hissed into the ground right in front of him and he had quickly walked back to the others. They had finally agreed to help one another up and over it, and it was therefore a bunch of muddy, sodden, and miserable men that finally made it across the finish line, knowing they had failed the task.

Those who had managed to struggle over it on their own could at least tell themselves they hadn't failed to complete the task on their own even if they knew their time doing it probably wasn't satisfactory.

Like promised the men were given the rest of the day off, being told to freshen up – for most this meant taking a full on bath – and then they could rest and see to their equipment. Most ignored their equipment and went straight to bed after their bath, but some had learned the lesson and wondered if the Rangers might not still be keeping watch of them. They didn't trust the message of relaxing wasn't a hidden final test, so despite being bone weary and tired they took the time to go over their equipment just in case.

It was with some relief to everybody when they could enjoy a properly cooked dinner by the kitchen master and his staff.

Almost all of the wannabes went to bed early, with only about a handful staying up, talking, seeing to their horses, or even shooting a few arrows on the range. And these the Rangers knew, were the only ones with the drive necessary to actually be a Ranger. The only question was whether they also had the skills or not.


	5. Chapter 5

"Alright, let's get to it. You've got the results ready?" Crowley looked around the Rangers gathered around him in his office. Everyone was here; there was no need to keep anyone on duty to keep watch of the wannabes, because they had already gone to bed. He got nods and murmurs of confirmation. Crowley could tell the Rangers were tired, too; few had gotten a lot of sleep last night, and they had all been hard at work over the last couple of days, but they didn't show it or let it make them inattentive. Those sitting even avoided slumping in their chairs, knowing it would just bring the risk of actually falling asleep.

Halt placed his sheet with the total scores on the table and placed another stack with the comments and notes he had written during the tests to the side. The others quickly followed suit. Crowley didn't immediately look at the papers in front of him. Instead he took the time to look around the Rangers gathered here.

"I just wanted to thank you all for your hard work, before we dwell into these results and finish this. I know you've all been hard at work and that the Gathering this year haven't been about relaxing, catching up, and having friendly competitions among each other, at least not so far. But next year I do plan to have a proper Gathering and by then we won't have to deal with these fobs any more."

There was a grumble of assent at those words; the men hadn't impressed during the last two days and the Rangers wouldn't be sorry to see them go. Kicking them out would feel very, very good.

"Can't we just have a coffee, go to bed, and then kick them out tomorrow? I didn't see anything impressive, so I doubt looking closer at the results would lead to anything but a waste of time," Halt said gruffly.

A few nodded in agreement with Halt; they would much prefer to go to bed themselves rather than spend their time going over the results. Even so there was also a curiosity to find out just how badly the men had done and if there was one thing Rangers loved it was quality gossip about others.

"No, Halt, we can't. We have to treat this seriously. Now shut up and drink some coffee," Crowley said pushing the pot in his direction.

Halt grumbled a bit, but took the pot and poured himself a cup before stirring in honey. A few others shook their heads at this behaviour. Halt ignored them.

While the others got coffee, too, and dived into the plate of sliced bread with butter, jam or honey that Crowley had acquired from the kitchen to keep his Rangers happy, Crowley himself dived into the papers. Halt poured him coffee and pushed a piece of bread towards him. He might be gruff and tend to grumble a lot, but he was still a caring person and as far as he was concerned Crowley's well-being was his concern as his new best friend and second in command.

Egon hid a smile at the behaviour; he had early on noted Halt's tendency to do little things to take care of others even if he would simultaneously insult them and pretend to not care.

Crowley took a sip of his coffee then looked up at the expectant Rangers. "Well, as we suspected, it's not impressive," he began. "Only a handful show any skills worth mentioning at all, but most of them do it in only one or two areas." He shook his head. "They are simply not well-rounded enough."

"Told you."

"Shut up, Halt. As far as I can see we only have three, who show promise in more than five subjects, and that's Meralon, Mertan, and Norrington."

There was some nods at that.

"Meralon was fairly good with the knives," Berrigan noted. "Mertan and Norrington were also in my top five, but could both use some work."

"Meralon did the best at silent and unseen movement. Norrington was fine until he neared his goal; then he got impatient and that revealed him," Norris commented. "Mertan wasn't any better, in fact I'd say he was a little worse."

Crowley consulted the notes. "I see Meralon and Norrington did best in archery, too. Mertan's score is one point less than Norrington." He looked at Halt for confirmation.

Halt snorted. "Yes, they did best, but they weren't impressive by a long shot, Crowley. Meralon would barely qualify as average, and Norrington and Mertan were both no better than what I would expect of a first year apprentice early on in their training." Halt shook his head. "None of them are really good enough for a Ranger. And while Mertan did slightly better than Norrington standing still, he didn't have any skill shooting from horseback."

"But Norrington did?" Crowley inquired.

"He did better," was Halt's reply.

Crowley took a closer look at the notes Halt had made. Meralon wasn't any better shooting from horseback than Norrington, but had done better standing still. It seemed to him Norrington was always a little less skilled than Meralon and even _his_ results weren't exactly impressive. Crowley turned his attention to the theoretical assessments. He raised an eyebrow and looked up and caught Lewin's eyes.

"It seems to me Norrington does well on the theoretical side of things; he knows our history, the geography of Araluen, and his planning skills aren't bad. Mertan is also doing well with the geography, both of them better than Meralon."

Lewin nodded. "Yes, they are close, but going over the results it was clear Norrington's strength is in the theoretical stuff. He did excel there."

Crowley nodded thoughtfully. "But otherwise Meralon tends to come out at the top in the practical tasks."

Farrel shook his head. "Not always. Norrington did excellent at the obstacle course today, better than Meralon, I'd say." He looked at Egon, who nodded.

"He had an excellent time. But so did Meralon and Mertan's wasn't bad either."

Crowley was looking over the notes again and making little marks at the top three names to better compare them. It was occurring to him that Mertan simply ranked too low for any serious consideration even if he was almost always in the top five. Even Norrington was doubtful, despite his good marks in the theoretical tasks. "Alright," he said. "Let's focus on Meralon and Norrington. As I see it, Meralon tends to do better on the practical side, while Norrington tends to do better on the theoretical side. How's their riding skills?"

"Both are good, but I liked the way Norrington treated his horse before and after better," Farrel said. "In my opinion he took greater care to make sure his horse was fine, and I did see him swing by the stables when we returned to the castle this afternoon."

Leander nodded his agreement. "I also saw him do extra target practice on the range yesterday, even though he was clearly tired."

"Ditto today," Berwick piped in.

"And I liked his attitude on the course," Farrel mused. "When crossing the last wall, he helped another man get a grip on it instead of simply shaking him off and ignoring him. Meralon seemed to ignore everyone else."

"Agreed," Berrigan said. "Meralon did strike me as arrogant, but I couldn't say whether it's because of disdain for his team mates or just in general; they really didn't have any skills to speak of."

Crowley tapped his chin thoughtfully. They were badly in need of new Rangers; of course he hoped that most of the old Rangers would return as word got around that they had been cleared of all charges and that Morgarath was gone, but he couldn't be sure of that. And even that might take time. They needed new Rangers _now_, because a dozen really wasn't enough for the whole of Araluen. There was the possibility to train new apprentices, but that would take time. If any of these might do the job then he would be a fool to simply dismiss them.

He frowned as he looked some more at the results and comments on each of the two final candidates. Halt didn't like their shooting, but he did have a very high standard. Although Crowley had to admit that the notes confirmed what Halt had said; they were barely average, even for an apprentice. Berrigan's notes did give Meralon credit for his skills with the knives, while Norrington again wasn't any better than an apprentice. Unseen and unheard movement? Meralon was about average, Norrington made the classic mistakes they saw in apprentices, but he wasn't without skill. In fact it was occurring to Crowley that the biggest problem with Norrington was that he had never been given proper instruction. He clearly wasn't afraid to work or practice extra to gain the skills, and his good grades on the theoretical side suggested a man, who had learnt his skills through self-studying.

Crowley looked back up at the assembled Rangers, who were patiently waiting for Crowley's assessment.

"Everybody, I'd like you to think back on the last few Gatherings." Halt raised an eyebrow at that. "Halt, just enjoy your coffee while the rest think." He smirked slightly and took a sip. Crowley ignored him. "What do you remember of Meralon and Norrington's behaviour during those times?"

He watched as they frowned, deep in thought.

"I best remember Meralon as somewhat aloof and with a certainty in his own skills. Not really one to listen to critique," Egon said.

There were a few nods at that.

"True," Berwick said. "Though he would watch the rest of us when we were practising or discussing different techniques. I'd say he was afraid of being held in contempt or thought of as lesser."

Farrel snorted. "So, basically he's afraid of being seen and treated the way he has been treating the other wannabes for the last two days?"

Berwick nodded. "I'd say so."

"Sounds right to me," Berrigan agreed. "I certainly remember him watching me when I was practising knife throwing with others."

"Well, he mostly ignored me," Lewin said shrugging. "Until two years ago I was still an apprentice and apparently not worthy of paying attention to. Don't remember Norrington paying much attention to me either," he added.

Leander nodded. "Norrington I remember as one who was always watching, but seldom interfering."

"He _was_ watching _and_ listening. Always seemed to me he hoped to soak up what the rest of us knew," Samdash said, finally interjecting himself in the conversation. Over the last few months he had been working very hard on not thinking he had all the answers himself and learning to listen more to his fellow Rangers. He was still practising, but getting better.

"Not all os us," Lewin said shaking his head. "He mostly ignored me. And Crowley, too, as I remember it."

Crowley nodded confirmation.

"Sucks for him then; Crowley's one of the best and our new Commandant," Farrel grinned.

Crowley heard a funny sound coming from Halt's direction that might have been a laugh, but when he glanced at him his face was completely neutral.

"I don't think it was intentional," Leander said thoughtfully. "I think he was trying to learn from his peers, but never considered that a younger Ranger might also be a peer in terms of knowledge and skills."

Samdash snorted. "He's a fool then. They both are."

"Doesn't make him a bad person though," Jurgen said quietly, before stifling a yawn. "Just uninformed."

"Crowley, you are not seriously thinking of taking these two on, are you?" Halt asked.

Crowley nodded. "I am."

Halt shook his head. "They are not skilled enough. Even if Norrington is good on the theoretical side that doesn't make it up for his bad practical skills, and Meralon's barely average on the practical side, which isn't helped by _his_ poor theoretical knowledge."

A few murmured agreement, but most were silently watching the other two waiting to see where the argument went.

"And what would you have us do? Simply kick out people who might not be perfect, but do look like they'd be able to do the job, at least with a little nudging and extra instruction? Halt, we are badly in need of new Rangers; the last couple of months have shown that. Right now, we have to cover huge areas each, and every one of us are stretched thin."

"That's true," Egon said. "And while I'm not ready for retirement quite yet, I can feel the strain; I'm simply not that young any more. Having to cover three fiefs is hard on an old man like me."

Berrigan patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "I'm not too thrilled about their level either, but I also agree with Crowley and Egon; I'm tired and not just because I haven't slept a lot the last two days. We can't simply wait for the others to come back."

"If they are coming back," Norris interjected. The others looked at him. He shrugged. "We are all hoping they come back, but we don't know. And it could still take time. Besides there's a real risk some of them are dead."

"Well, there's a cheery thought," Berrigan mumbled.

"It's true," Samdash said. "We don't know. I don't believe they are all gone, but yes, some could be dead or simply not wishing to return; the way they were kicked out hurt."

There were nods of agreement.

"I remember what it felt like to get that notice that I was being replaced and being falsely accused of crimes I hadn't committed," Egon said. "I was just about ready to leave it all behind and might have if it hadn't been for Crowley coming and pulling me out of the dark." He shook his head. "I felt pretty disillusioned with everything; Araluen, the Corps, the King. I can understand if many of the others won't come back."

Crowley sighed. "And that's the problem; we have no idea if they'll even believe that things have changed or if that will matter to them any more. Some have been gone for years; they could have build up new lives that they don't want to leave." He looked around the others and then settled his gaze on Halt. "Do you really think we can afford to discard two candidates that may be able to help the Corps and Araluen? Even if they aren't perfect, do you think them totally useless?"

A complete silence settled over the Rangers as they looked at Halt, waiting for his response. Finally he sighed.

"No. But I'm not convinced we are better off by letting them stay either."

Crowley nodded slowly. "I see your point." He looked around. "I'll think on how to best approach this. You lot should get some sleep. Once again thanks for your effort."

There was a general murmur and scraping of chairs as the Rangers stood up and bid each other goodnight. None missed the fact that Halt stayed behind to discuss the matter further with Crowley, but they didn't mind either. Halt and Crowley represented each side in this debate, and they felt sure they would come up with the best solution. After all, they made an amazing team and had already accomplished more in a few months than most people did in a lifetime.


	6. Chapter 6

The men that stood lined up were restless and nervous. Once again they were surrounded by Rangers standing loosely at attention and silently waiting for the Commandant to show up. The Rangers didn't fidget, but then they weren't the ones waiting for the Commandant's verdict.

Norrington knew most here would be sent away. It was inevitable; they simply didn't have enough skill to be a Ranger. But the trouble was that he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to stay either. Seeing the other Rangers in action had shaken his belief in his own skills. He was good, but the Rangers were the stuff of legends and it had become clear to him they expected all Rangers to have the same skills.

So where would they draw the line?

He swallowed nervously and tried to stay calm. It helped to have the hood up on his Ranger's cloak, shielding him from view by those behind him and next to him, and he had noticed a handful of others doing the same. Most still didn't wear proper Ranger attire even if they had remembered their weapons, but he knew they wouldn't be staying either. Only a few looked like they might have what the Commandant was looking for. He just hoped he was one of them.

There was a sudden increase in murmuring and fidgeting as two Rangers were seen walking over the yard towards the waiting group. One was clearly the Commandant, who was easily recognisable with his red-blond hair, but the other had his hood up making him hard to distinguish. Norrington had a feeling he knew who though.

The two Rangers stopped a few meters from the line of men surveying them, and a hush fell over the crowd. Crowley had a rolled up parchment in hand, but didn't make any motion to unroll it. Next to him Halt leaned casually on his bow. Several swallowed nervously; Halt had scared them more than any other Ranger.

"Alright, people, listen up."

A few jumped at the sudden noise even though they had expected Crowley to speak. Crowley continued as if he hadn't noticed or didn't care.

"Over the last two days you have all been assessed in the various skills expected of a Ranger. Meralon!"

"Yes?" he answered. Norrington admired how calm he sounded, when he himself felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

"You will come up to me after this."

He nodded his understanding, looking as if he had expected this result. Norrington wondered how good his results had been.

"Norrington!"

Norrington almost jumped, but managed to stop himself. "Yes, Commandant?" he answered, wanting to sound respectful.

"You come up to me as well." Norrington nodded, relief washing over him. It sounded like he was safe. He would stay in the corps!

"The rest of you; turn in your Ranger's equipment. You are dismissed."

"What?!"

"You can't do that!"

"I didn't do _that_ bad!"

Crowley stayed silent as the protests washed over him. Norrington was surprised, too. He had known most would be gone, but he had expected more than just the two of them being allowed to stay. Clearly they hadn't done well enough to go over whatever invisible line the Commandant had drawn.

"Be quiet!" Halt's sharp voice rang out. It was effective seeing as how most of them were deadly scared of him, and everybody glanced surreptitiously at his longbow, as they quieted down.

"Thank you, Halt," Crowley said. He raised his voice to address the assembled men. "You think this is unfair? That you should be allowed to remain Rangers?"

There was a grumble of assent. Mertan looked almost ready to throttle Crowley, clearly angry about being dismissed.

"I have served loyally for four years and I know what is needed! You can't just dismiss me!" Mertan shouted. Norrington was pretty certain his anger wouldn't help his case.

"Is that so?" Crowley said dryly. He glanced around before settling his gaze on Mertan again. "You were all given the same tasks and tests and all were held to the same standard. I'll grant you that you are not without skill –" Mertan opened his mouth, clearly to protest why he was then being kicked out, but Crowley continued "– but not at the level expected of a Ranger, not even close." He locked eyes with Mertan. "You think I'm being unfair? It would be unfair to Araluen to keep on any man, who do not possess the skills needed to truly keep the kingdom safe."

"I can –" he began, but Crowley cut him off.

"No, you can't. Morgarath worked to weaken the Ranger Corps so he could take over the throne and he was nearly successful, because of how few properly trained Rangers were left. That is _not _something I will allow to happen again," he said in a sharp voice. "Our duty is to keep the king and the kingdom safe from _all_ threats. You might have been able to buy the oakleaf you hold now, but that time is over; going forward the only way to get the oakleaf is through merit. Lord, most of you don't even know how to properly feed yourselves!" Crowley's voice was hard and cold; some of Halt had rubbed off on him during the last months.

Mertan still looked angry, but it was another man who suddenly went forward, screaming: "I worked for it, you can't have it!"

"Stop!" Halt suddenly had his bow firmly in his left hand and an arrow nocked and drawn, before any of them really had time to see what he was doing. The man stopped short, fear replacing the anger. He didn't dare speak or barely even breathe as Halt's arrow pointed straight at his heart.

"Get back in line," Halt gritted out.

The man slowly walked backwards, not taking his eyes of the arrow. Halt didn't release the tension and lower his bow until the man was back in his place. He returned the arrow to his quiver, but everyone knew that wouldn't slow him down.

Crowley gave him a quick nod. "If any one else feels like getting violent shoot them in the leg," he told Halt.

Halt nodded once in acknowledgement.

Crowley looked around the now cowed men. "Any of you think you can do that? Draw, nock, and fire in one smooth motion sure of your target? Because that is what a Ranger should be able to do. Just like every other thing you have been tested for in the last two days. Look around you; you have seen examples of the standard we expect in the Ranger Corps. If you cannot live up to that, not even close, then you have no place in the Corps.

"So ask yourselves; do you truly think you can match the other Rangers here skill for skill? And if not, then turn your oakleaves and equipment over right now." Crowley pointed to the side where two Rangers stood ready to receive the equipment and then waited.

The men glanced around nervously; they had all seen the skills of Halt or Berrigan with weapons. Leander's skills in tracking or Norris' in moving about silently. As they glanced around they knew they would never dare go up against these men, because they simply didn't have the skills they had. And as the first came to the conclusion that they would never be real Rangers, their shoulders slumped in resignation before they turned to the waiting Rangers to hand in their Rangers knives and then walked to Crowley to hand over their oakleaves.

Once the first man started walking the others quickly gave in, too, and followed along.

Norrington kept his place as did Meralon, but he wasn't quite as confident or relieved any more. I'm not as good as Halt with the bow, and can't throw a knife with same precision as Berrigan. I can't move right up to someone without being heard or noticed at all the way Norris can either. Why is Crowley letting me stay? Norrington couldn't help question himself and wondering what Crowley's plan was. It was occurring to him that Crowley hadn't dismissed him outright, but he hadn't said he was a Ranger either. Just that he should speak to him after this. Perhaps there would be a second test? He had to fight himself not to shift on his feet nervously though he couldn't quite keep himself from fingering his cloak; he did not want to lose this. He tried reminding himself that of course not all Rangers were equally good at every discipline, so it was only natural that Crowley would have selected the best one for each task; the expected level would probably be a bit lower. But how much?

He glanced at Meralon; he looked calm, even a little disdainful of the other men as they turned over their oakleaves and then went to pack their things. Mertan had stayed in the line a while longer, but his anger had turned into a thoughtful expression as he had slowly glanced at each of the other Rangers, and finally his shoulders slumped, too, accepting defeat. Even so he waited and instead went to Crowley first and spoke a few low words with him before he handed over his oakleaf, knives, and cloak. Norrington couldn't help but wonder what had been said, but doubted he would be told.

At last only he and Meralon were left standing in what had once been a line of hopeful Rangers. Crowley beckoned them forward.

"Alright, you two are here, because you were the best of the lot," he told them without preamble.

"Not that that took much," Halt added.

"True," Crowley conceded. "You were the best; but not perfect. Each of you have weak areas you will need to strengthen to become true Rangers."

Meralon's eyebrows knotted together, clearly displeased with being told he wasn't good enough yet.

"So we are going through another test?" Norrington asked.

"Yes and no," Crowley replied. "You are both considered skilled enough that you should be able to do the job if you get some extra instruction and work diligently on honing your skills. You've got the basics down; now you need to focus on going past that." He looked at each of them in turn. "I expect you both to listen carefully to the instructions you get and work without complain to strengthen your skills."

"You have a list we should focus on?" Meralon asked. He still didn't sound too pleased with this.

But Crowley shook his head. "You need to work on your strong areas as much as your weak ones and will be given instruction in everything over the next one and a half week. If you have not shown improvement by then you will be dismissed, too." Crowley gave them an even look. "Remember; you have shown enough skill that we believe you have the potential to be a Ranger, but neither of you have been able to live up to the minimum requirements in all areas. You will need to work hard to prove you have what it takes to be a Ranger."

Norrington nodded quickly. He had never wanted anything more than being a Ranger and he would prove to Crowley that he did indeed have what it took. Meralon's response was less enthusiastic, but he gave a single nod as well.

Crowley held their gazes a moment longer then nodded to them. "Alright, that will be it for now. You may do with your time as you wish until the midday meal, then join the rest of us at our table. Your first lesson will be in the afternoon, but from now on your are both considered apprentices until the one and a half week are concluded." He didn't add a see you or anything, but just turned around and walked back to the keep Halt walking next to him like a shadow.

Norrington let go of a pent up breath. "Well, I guess we still have some work to do," he said to Meralon.

Meralon snorted. "He just wants to scare us and make sure we don't get too comfortable. He needs more Rangers. I doubt he would actually kick us out unless we really made a fool of ourselves." He patted his knives. "With my skills with these two I'm safe."

Norrington glanced after Crowley and Halt. "I'm not sure any of us where ever really safe. Even Mertan got the kick and from what I saw he wasn't all that bad either."

Again Meralon snorted. "Clearly he wasn't good enough."

Norrington felt a bit uncomfortable with Meralon's dismissive behaviour, but wanting to be friendly he turned to him again. "Well, I suppose you are right, but even so it would probably be a good idea to shoot a few extra arrows at the range," he said with a little smile. "Want to join me?"

Meralon shook his head. "Not now; didn't get much sleep the last two nights, so think I'll take a nap instead. Besides lessons won't start until after lunch; might as well make the most of it until then." With those words he strode off.

Norrington watched as he walked away, then shook his head slightly. He wasn't sure Meralon's attitude would help him, and instead turned towards the range himself. He didn't know if any of the Rangers were watching, but he wouldn't be surprised if they still kept a lookout to see how they responded to Crowley's news and Norrington vowed he would not be kicked out just because he hadn't taken this seriously enough.

He hadn't needed to worry; the Rangers themselves were so tired they had all gone to bed, and the need for sleep was the only reason Crowley had decided to wait with the lessons until after the midday meal. Therefore no one was watching as Norrington let go of arrow after arrow at the range, but he didn't care. He just wanted to be the best he could be, so he could stay a Ranger.


	7. Chapter 7

_Epilogue_

During the next week Meralon's dismissive attitude started to change as he realised just how much better the other Rangers were and he worked harder to prove himself.

Norrington barely allowed himself any breaks, until Crowley finally told him it was also important to rest and recuperate and to hang out with the others in the evenings.

Meralon didn't seem to think the theoretical stuff too important and tended to scuff when he had to spend hours focusing on it, but Norrington didn't complain at all. Instead he soaked up the lessons he was being given, practising until his arms ached and shook. He was so busy focusing on his own lessons, he barely noticed that he was given far more practical lessons against Meralon's more theoretical lessons. And while he was still in awe of Halt's skills with a bow he found that he was no longer really afraid of him. Instead he found himself full of respect for the young man and hoping to learn as much as possible from him. It became clear to him no other Ranger could match Halt with bow and arrow, except maybe Crowley, and Norrington wanted to learn from the best. So did Meralon, but Meralon's attitude tended to rub Halt the wrong way, so Crowley wisely limited the number of lessons Meralon had with Halt. Instead he spent more time with the older and more experienced Egon.

Norrington found that he rather liked this Gathering now that the others had been weeded out; this was just the Rangers being Rangers and everyone helped teach him how to be a better Ranger, even Crowley. They laughed and joked with one another and Halt and Crowley would frequently get into some sort of ridiculous argument, but never seemed to get angry at one another. In fact he was starting to realise this was just their way of teasing each other and show they cared. Even Halt's gruff manner didn't seem so scary and forbidding any more.

On the last day Crowley beckoned him to his office. Norrington hadn't seen Meralon since breakfast, but knew he would have been told to come, too.

He knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Norrington opened the door and saw that this time only Crowley was in the room. Or at least he thought he was the only one. He had noticed Halt tended to be close to Crowley at most times and had quickly learned Halt was in fact Crowley's second in command. And on closer inspection he also noticed him standing in the corner, leaning against the wall. He smiled to himself. There was no doubt that Halt was as loyal to Crowley as he was to the crown. Perhaps even more so.

"You wanted to see me?" he said as he crossed the room.

Crowley nodded towards a chair. "Yes. Take a seat; no reason for you to stand." He glanced in Halt's direction, but he didn't move, so Crowley chose to ignore him. If he was going to insist on standing he wouldn't fight him on it even if it was stupid. Halt could be very stubborn.

Norrington sat down. "Are we waiting for Meralon to come?"

But Crowley shook his head. "No, I have already seen Meralon; he was here not long ago." He leaned back in his chair. "This time it's just us."

Norrington felt a bit nervous; he knew that this would be the final verdict and though he felt he had definitely improved during the last one and a half week he didn't know if it was enough for Crowley and the Ranger Corps.

Crowley studied him for a moment then leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table. "I'll be honest with you; when I was looking over the initial results from the assessments you all went through, you didn't quite hit the level we expect of a Ranger in your practical tests. It was your theoretical knowledge that dragged you up and showed you did have a drive for it, just not the instruction needed to gain the skills."

Norrington gripped his cloak then forced himself to relax his fingers. "I understand," he said nodding. "I... I was mostly a self-taught Ranger," he admitted. "I never had a real Ranger instructor until now."

Crowley nodded. "And that showed itself. You were fairly good, but not Ranger level. We allowed you to stay, because we saw a potential in you to learn the skills you lacked. You have been watching other Rangers since you joined the corps at every Gathering to try and learn from them and worked to mimic what you saw."

Norrington stared at him startled. He hadn't realised the others had noticed, but then he realised he shouldn't have been surprised; Rangers tended to be very perceptive. He blinked and forced himself to focus on Crowley in the here and now.

"So, where does that leave me now?" he asked swallowing hard.

Crowley nodded in approval. He preferred when people faced their fears and didn't shy away from the unpleasant. "Well, you have shown remarkable progress considering the short time you have had proper instruction, so we aren't kicking you out."

Norrington let go of the breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding in relief. "Thank you," he said softly.

Crowley smiled. "You're a good man, Norrington, and you've got the drive. And not once have you complained about your lessons."

"Wished the same could be said about Meralon," Halt added under his breath.

"Did Meralon...?" Norrington began not quite sure how to ask the question.

"Meralon is also staying," Crowley informed him. "He was always the stronger candidate of the two of you, but you have made an effort to close the gap between you."

Norrington nodded, glad of Crowley's honesty. He had had the feeling that Meralon's skills were better than his, but he hadn't seen enough of them to be sure.

"So what happens now? Am I assigned to a new fief or my old one again?"

At this question Halt and Crowley exchanged a glance, and Norrington had a sudden feeling there was more to be said.

Crowley sighed. "See, that's the issue; you have improved greatly, but in reality you shouldn't be out on your own yet; you still have things to learn and skills to hone and it would be best for you to stay with another Ranger for a while to continue learning."

Norrington nodded eagerly. "I have no problem with that. I just want to be a Ranger."

Crowley nodded. "I know. But at the same time we are short on Rangers, so making you an apprentice would keep us short on Rangers." He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. "I thought about having you stay here with Halt and me," – Norrington perked up at that – , "but it would be too much having three Rangers stationed here, especially seeing how we are short in other areas."

"Oh. Right," Norrington said, unable to not feel a bit disappointed. Crowley and Halt were a fearsome team and both great Rangers, so he would have loved to keep on learning from them. He felt he would really be able to evolve and grow as a Ranger under their combined tutelage. He also realised he wouldn't actually mind becoming an apprentice since it would mean learning from the best. Yes, he wanted the silver oakleaf, but Crowley's merit system appealed to him and the last two weeks had changed his view on quite a few things.

"Instead I was thinking of sending you down to help out Egon in the south-east fiefs he's currently administrating. He's a very experienced Ranger, and while you will often be working alone and on your own, Egon will help you to keep honing your skills." Crowley was watching him closely for his reaction. He hadn't seemed to mind the suggestion that he was only at apprentice level and should be paired with another Ranger, so he was curious how he would take the suggestion that he pair up with Egon.

Norrington smiled. "Working with Egon and learning from him? Sounds good to me. Egon is a very talented Ranger."

Halt snorted. "Talent has nothing to do with it; he's just very experienced and has practised for longer than you've been alive."

Norrington's smile widened and he laughed. "True enough," he said to Halt. He turned his gaze back to Crowley, who was also smiling mildly. "But I think that sounds like a good solution. I can do the work needed while simultaneously getting guidance and tips from Egon. I suppose I'll officially be stationed in the neighbouring fief to Egon?" he asked thoughtfully.

Crowley nodded. "Yes. Egon's in Seacliff, which is rather small, so the travel time between you will be short, especially on a Ranger horse. Which reminds me; before you go to your new fief, you will need a proper Ranger horse. We'll take you to our horse trainer for one before you head south," he said with a smile.

Norrington thought he saw the shadow of a smile on Halt's face, too, but when he shifted his gaze to him it was as unreadable as usual.

"Sounds great," he said. "I've always been curious about what makes the horses so different from other horses besides their size."

"You'll find out soon enough," Crowley said easily. "Now, I'll be writing up your official papers; we're all leaving tomorrow, so enjoy your final day here and take the time to spend time with everyone else. Except for Egon you won't be seeing the rest for quite some time and Halt and I will only go with you to get your horse, then head back for Araluen."

Norrington nodded his understanding. "Anything else I should know?"

Crowley shook his head. "Not right now. But I suggest you talk to Egon; he knows about the arrangement, but you might want to get started on a working out a more specific plan for this mentorship."

Norrington smiled as he stood up. "Will do. Talk to you later." He nodded goodbye to each of them before leaving the office.

Halt and Crowley were silent until the door had closed and Norrington's steps had faded away.

"Well, that was different from Meralon," Crowley commented.

Halt growled. "He's a pompous idiot with too high an opinion of himself."

"Yes, he certainly could use a lesson in being humble. Stationing him in a far corner of the country should hopefully keep him both occupied and out of trouble, not to mention out of our hair."

Halt snorted. "I'm still not sure why you kept him; he might have improved during the Gathering, but I don't like his attitude and he's hardly a great Ranger. I'd say mediocre at best and that's being kind."

Crowley sighed. "I know. But mediocre is still better than most others in this country, so we'll just have to live with his attitude. Hopefully it will improve with time. And otherwise he's in the far north-east corner. I just hope he'll start to take the theoretical side of things more serious and do more to read up on it. He's not what you'd call a good strategic commander or planner."

"No, that would be a lie to say." Halt shook his head. "I hope we never come to regret keeping these two."

Crowley felt warm inside at Halt's use of we. Although it was technically Crowley's responsibility who became Rangers and who didn't, Halt was more than willing to share that responsibility even though he had been sceptic about both of them and that made him a true friend.

"Well, I have a good feeling about Norrington at least. He's got the right attitude and I think Egon will make sure he gets the necessary tuition in the areas where his skills are still below average."

Halt nodded. "Yes, with time he could become a good Ranger. I just hope he doesn't get himself killed first."

"Well, aren't you a cheery one," Crowley said dryly. "Come on, go out and enjoy some fresh air."

Halt eyed him. "And what about you?"

Crowley gestured to the paperwork next to him. "Well, I need to finish up Norrington and Meralon's papers. Unless, of course, you want to do them?" he teased.

Halt quickly shook his head. "No, thank you. You're the Commandant; paperwork is your job, not mine." With that Halt left the room, his soft steps barely making any noise.

Crowley chuckled to himself before he turned to the paperwork before him. Soon he could go out and relax with the others as well, and then enjoy the final dinner before they all split up tomorrow to head to each their part of Araluen. The future looked a little bit brighter today than it did two weeks ago. He whistled to himself as he worked.

* * *

AN: And that marks the end of this story. I hope you have all enjoyed it and the new Ranger I introduced. :) It's been fun writing a longer story, but I think most of my stories will continue being shorter stories. Reviews are always welcome. Cheers!


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